


A Cat Named Love

by M3zzaTh3M3z



Category: Widdershins (Webcomic)
Genre: Bad Matchmaking, Canon Asexual Character, Friendship, Love, Magic, Matchmaking, Multi, NaNoWriMo, Party, Valentine's Day, aro!Mal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-08-29 22:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8508568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M3zzaTh3M3z/pseuds/M3zzaTh3M3z
Summary: Wolfe is being followed by the most dangerous buggerup yet - Love!





	1. The Ball

Holidays were never fun for Mal. Everyone’s emotions running riot, crowds in the streets, not to mention everyone banging on about the ‘lovely colours of the decorations’ and all that nonsense… The combination was not exactly what he would want in a day and what’s worse is that he’d be forced to immerse himself in that swirling hell and grin through the migraine because holidays were the best money days. High spirits made for lucrative busking and by the end of the day most were so drunk that he hardly needed to see their souls to win at cards.

Halloween was bad, the air so thick with the nervous scratching bright hazes of those expecting a fright that it was like peering through fog at times. Christmas was worse, with childish excitement bouncing off the walls and greed smothering the shop windows and idiots blathering on about the goodwill of mankind as though anyone was really going to listen. Only thing that made Christmas bearable were Wolfe’s festive tunes drawing in twice the usual and the rather sad little Christmas dinner Wolfe insisted they observe every year.

The absolute worst though was Valentine’s Day. So many emotions ramped up higher than Mal had thought possible screaming at him all day long. Lust and jealously and loneliness and anxiety and bitterness and anger blared from almost everyone he passed. If the rest of the world could see what he did, Mal didn’t reckon they’d treasure their stupid saint’s day so much then. It was hard to believe in all that romantic crap when he could see what was really in everyone’s hearts that day. The worst of it was Wolfe. Wolfe, the sorry bastard, actually believed in all of it and would spend the day trawling the taverns and wherever else there might be a few ladies for him to charm. How he could balance this belief in the importance of the ‘romantic’ day with the knowledge that within hours they’d be on the move again, Mal had no idea. He didn’t care either. All that bothered him was that it meant a day of migraines without Wolfe’s calm, and he couldn’t even tell his friend how much he was needed because he might be self-professed scum but he wasn’t the kind of scum who would ruin his best (not to mention only) friend’s favourite day of the year.  
At least working for Ben now meant that his livelihood wasn't dependent on goading love sick idiots into betting more on a worthless hand of cards, and so he had a perfectly good excuse to stay indoors all day, or better yet, in bed. 

At least, that was the plan. A plan that was unfairly disrupted when Wolfe woke him up by yanking the threadbare blanket off his bed. 

"Come along Mal!" the hulking blond said cheerfully, as if it was perfectly reasonable to remove a man's single sense of comfort on an otherwise godless cold morning. "We have work to be doing! You cannot be sleeping all day, ja?"

"Bugger off..." Mal muttered in reply, trying to snatch back his blanket. "We don't need t' busk anymore. An' what idiot would summon anythin' today?"

"That is was Ben will be telling us!" 

Mal looked at Wolfe's beaming face. "Ye mean we've actually got a job today?"

"Ja! So come on or Ben will be upset with us for being so slow."

"What a threat..." Mal grumbled, but he hauled himself out of the creaking pile of springs he called his bed (still a hell of a lot better than some crates in a railway car he had to admit) and pulled on his jacket. 

He was already halfway through his breakfast cigarette by the time Wolfe served him and Ben some of those fancy scrambled eggs he liked making. "Here we are!" As usual, he somehow managed to look bloody delighted at forcing the eggs into the shape of deliciousness. Food might be fuel to Mal, but he was able to occasionally recognise when it was non-disgusting fuel. 

"Thank you Wolfe," Ben said in his prim polite voice, despite eyeing the offered dish with the same suspicion he eyed everything he had not personally mopped at least twice. If Wolfe took offence at how his meals were received, which Mal very much doubted, he was managing to hide it very well, which really meant something coming from someone who could see souls. 

"You are welcome."

"Right, so remind me why I'm not snoring right now?" Mal demanded in between shovelling down the eggs. He smirked a little at the flash of irritation that quite literally jumped up from Ben at his poor manners. 

"Because I've been contacted by a client informing me of a new and rather powerful malform they would like us to discreetly catch."

"What kind of buggerup?"

Ben sighed and cleaned his glasses. Just behind him, his soul did the same and its intensity dimmed a little. "Well as even vagabonds like yourself should know, today is St Valentine's Day..."

Wolfe smiled and nodded amicably. "Yes, indeed! Do you happen to have any plans?"

It was only by having that pure soul right in front of his eyes that Mal was able to guarantee there wasn't a milligram of malice in that question, but he didn't need his curse to be able to see Ben would find that hard to believe. 

"I assure you, even without this job I would have better things to do with my time than waste it on frivolous romantic pursuits!" he informed them. 

"Oh, that is a shame," Wolfe said with genuine sadness tinging his soul a little around the chest. "Maybe you would like to come to the bar with me?"

"Yes please," interrupted Mal. "Don't leave 'im 'ere with me all evening. I don't want to give the good captain a murder to investigate, she's got enough on her plate already."

"How kind of you to worry about her," Ben remarked, glaring from behind his little oval glasses. "However, it sounds as though this job could take a while. You know the Trancey Manor, on the other side of town?"

"No," Mal and Wolfe replied at the same time. 

"Well I suppose the likes of you wouldn't..." 

Wolfe and Mal ignored the insult. It was nothing new and besides, Ben was going to have to think of something better than that to wind them up.

"Anyway, it's the huge mansion owned by the Tranceys," Ben continued. "Surely you've heard of them at least?"

Reluctantly, Mal nodded. "Aye." Everyone knew, or at least knew of, the elusive Tranceys. Rich, beautiful, mysterious, their balls were the talk of the town whenever they were held, which was almost always without warning. Most of Widdershins was half in love with them. Personally, Mal thought they sounded like a load of bloody toffs.

"I recieved word that the Tranceys are planning on hosting a grand ball for Valentine's Day."

"They invited ye?!" Mal exclaimed. He couldn't think of anyone less suited to one of the la di dah affiars, exculding himself of course.

"Don't be silly," Ben corrected. "We have been contacted because of a malform they fear will attempt to disrupt the party."

"What kind of a buggerup this time?"

Ben fussed with his cravat. "I do wish you wouldn't use that sort of language," he complained. "It'll put off customers..."

"What kind of 'malform,' then?" asked Wolfe, sharing a smile with Mal at their boss's familiar complaint.

"You may have heard, well no, I suppose you wouldn't have... Most people have heard of how their Valentine's Day balls are unusually adept at matching suitors," Ben said.

"And the idiots have been summonin' spirits to rig the game?" Mal guessed, puffing on his cigarette and scowling. "Bloody typical. Why can' they let us have a day of peace, huh? Do we have t' go sort it out?"

"Yes!" Ben snapped. "Not only are these clients it would be unwise to offend but it's a dangerous malform to have running loose!"

"What is it then, Ben?" asked Wolfe gently. "You have been saying much but telling us little."

"Love. They've only gone and let Love out."

 

 

It may seem hard to believe but Mal was not in fact a frequent visitor to fancy manors and all that. However, that didn't stop him striding up the grey gravel driveway to the huge stone mansion ahead as though he owned it all. He was just about clued up enough to know that knocking straight on the front door was not the correct thing to do, which is exactly why he made as though he was going to, until he was stopped in his tracks by Ben's squark.

"What?" he asked casually. His smirk grew wider as his hand hovered just above the wooden frame. "Problem?" 

Ben might think he was keeping a straight face but behind him his soul was swirling. Irritation, worry, exasperation and something else hiding among the usual frazzled mess that surrounded him. Mal tried to look closer but then it was gone again as Ben took a deep breath and started heading to the servants entrance around the side of the manor.

"Try not to wind him up too much," Wolfe warned gently as Mal skipped off the steps. "Can't be that much fun for you either?"

"Eh," shrugged Mal. True, sometimes the mess that usually surrounded Ben could give him a headache but Ben gave him a headache with his fussy little ways without his crosshatched aura, and with Wolfe around it was bearable.

They lined up outside the kitchen entrance and made a half hearted attempt to smarten themselves up, apart from Ben who was as impeccable as always and still had to brush imaginary dirt off his clothes. Mal supposed there was no harm in running a hand throuhg his unruly twotoned hair, but there was no way he was dealing with this job without his smokes.

They were greeted by an anxiously fizzing young man. He spoke evenly enough but just looking at him made Mal's eyes twitch. He gave Wolfe a look to make sure he'd picked up on it as well. Sometimes his friend could be worringly dense when it came to people, even when accounting for the fact he only had expressions and body language to go on.

"You'll be able to catch the buggerup before the ball this evening, won't you?" he asked as he led them to the ballroom he'd been trying to infuse. "If something goes wrong I could lose my job..."

"Don't worry, I'm sure it can't have gone far," Wolfe assured him. "And my friend here is very good at finding them."

"Kinda hard to miss most of the time," muttered Mal.

The ballroom was as large as you'd expect in a grand place like the Trancey Manor, even with the signs of destruction usually left in the wake of a buggerup. Some of the curtains were ripped, ribbons torn down and tables knocked over. The room was bustling with servants putting it to rights, but no sign of the buggerup.

Mal had never been in a room like it, all glossy tiles and high arches and a ceiling like a cathedrals. It was a little disconcerting, being in a single room at least three times as large as the entire office with their rooms combined, but he still affected a look of total disinterest as though he was in and out of these places all the time. All the sharp spikey auras of the worried staff made it hard to concentrate on what the man was telling them about it, so as always he latched onto what Wolfe was saying.

"It is a lovely room!" enthused Wolfe, clapping the young wizard on the back. Wolfe actually did have experience in such places so if he was impressed Mal knew it had to be good.

"Yes..." Ben agreed as he looked around and took it all in. Mal noticed him eyeing the corners of the room and the long draping curtains that fell around the enormous windows.

"Not in here," he assured him. "If it's as powerful as it should be there's no way I could miss it. Must be out in the house somewhere."

He hadn't meant to worry his boss further, after all they needed Ben in the best state of mind to desummon a powerful buggerup, but rather than looking reassured he was not currently with the spirit, Ben paled and cast a nervous glance at the summoning circle drawn in the far corner. "What happened?" he asked the young man, who's soul immediately cringed.

"Well I was summoning Love for the party as I was hired to..." he began, gesturing at the circle. "I know it's not exactly... encouraged... but it never does any harm! Just makes sure that all the matches go well, is all.... No reason the arranged marriages the gentlemen arrange shouldn't be happy as well, right?"

Ben waved an irritated hand for him to get on with it. "Yes, yes, but what went wrong?"

"So I was in the middle of summoning Love but then, ah..." He paused to think of the best way to put it. "Lola came in to see how the preparations were coming along, and I got a bit, uh, distracted."

"Lola? Your sweetheart?" wondered Wolfe aloud.

"Not quite... She's one of the scullery girls." Mal rolled his eyes at the flash of lust he saw behind the lad. Bloody typical.

"We'd better search the manor," Mal said. "It's not here."

"Any idea where it could be?" Ben asked.

"Wherever it can cause the most trouble."

 

They spent the day combing through the mansion, but although they could find traces of its passing, claw marks in paintings and shredded pillows, Mal couldn't catch a glimpse of the buggerup itself.  
"It's weird," he complained to Wolfe quietly. "Usually they're trippin' over 'emselves to mess us up."

"Indeed..." agreed Wolfe, opening yet another door. "Why would it be hiding? Doesn't it want to go home like the others?"

"It's getting late," worried Ben. "The party will begin in a few hours and we still haven't found it!"

"Alright, I'm tryin' yeah? We haven't looked downstairs yet, mebbe it's with the servants."

 

Mal only had to take one peek around the corner into the bustling kitchen to decide he'd had enough of it. "I'm not going in there," he said, retreating back to the servants' stairs. "No chance in hell/!  
"Hetic?" asked Ben, looking around the corner himself.  
"Blind are yer?" snapped Mal, rubbing at his aching temples with his knuckles. "S a bloody madhouse in there." Even with his eyes closed the flickering emotions were clear and painful.  
"I suppose they are under a lot of pressure to get things ready for the ball," said Wolfe.  
"'S not just that," Mal said. "They all bloody hate each other! Lots of grudges. An' every boy an' half the girls is in love!" He spat the last word.  
"Love?" echoed Wolfe.  
"Yeah. So 's full o' lust 'course. Tryna do me head in."  
"Do you think the Malform is in there?" asked Ben. "Maybe it is the reason they're all, ah... similarly afflicted?"  
Mal cracked open an eye to look over Ben. It was an odd choice of words. But he didn't have the mental capacity to worry about that now. "No," he said with more confidence than he felt. "I think a huge buggerup like this... I couldn' miss it. Not even in all that mess."  
All they could do was keep searching. But after another hour of scouring the mansion with only a trail of desrtuction leading them round in circles, they decided it was time to think of a new plan.  
"We need a trap," Wolfe decided. "If it does not like sitting still then how will Ben be able to draw the circle around it without us having it tied up first?"  
"How do you trap Love?" Ben exclaimed. "How do you attract it in the first place? Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't it being intangibly difficult to control one of it's main features?"  
"Same as any buggerup," Mal said. "Find what it wants and catch it. If it's not comin' t' us it don' want t' be caught, so there must be something else it's holding out for."  
"What could Love possibly want?" asked Ben.  
"Trouble?" suggested Mal. "Do I look like I know?"  
"It will appear at the ball," Wolfe told them.  
"How d'ye know?" Mal asked.  
"Why wouldn't it? If we are having this big celebration of it, don't you think it would like to come along and see? Maybe it will want to sort out the couples for itself."  
"So we need to'wait fer the ball..." Mal shook his head. "Nah, they'll never let us in."  
"They will have to if they want us to get it under control," Ben countered. "It would be best if we split up. I must find a quiet corner where I will draw the desummoning circle. Mal, you had better be on the balcony, watching out for when Love will enter the ballroom. Wolfe, you stay on the ballroom floor and when Mal has identified the couple Love is showing an interest in, use your... charms... to convince them to lead Love to the circle."  
Wolfe beamed. "I am not sure if my 'charms' are as effective as all that, but thank you! I will get the couple where you would like them to go, do not fear."  
"Do you have anything suitable for the ball?" Ben asked. "We do not want to draw attention to ourselves any more than we have to. I do not think the Tranceys would appreciate such scruffy interlopers at their event."  
"I'm not sure..." mused Wolfe. "I have my spare shirt, it is slightly nicer than this one I think?"  
Ben cast a critical eye over said shirt. "The spare will have to do," he decided. 

 

Even from high on the balcony overlooking the ballroom floor, Mal's head was pounding. He was glad he'd gotten up there before most of the guests had arrived, wading through the throng of dancers twirling around the room would not have been his idea of fun. He wasn't particularly looking forwards to having to go tell Wolfe if their plan had worked and Love was following a couple either.  
The air was full of souls, mirroring their bodies as they danced to the lilting tunes of the professional orchestra. They were the Trancey's own private performers, but to Mal just Wolfe alone sounded far superiour to an entire host of musicians. Their souls were distracted, they were dreaming of the sweethearts left behind for the evening and what they would do with the money they earnt. Whenever Wolfe played, all he could see was the music.  
There was no difficulty to be had in picked Wolfe out from the crowd. His soul danced as joyfully as it played music, switching from partner to partner as he zig zagged across the floor, supposedly to take in all the couples but Mal suspected, from the occasional rises of feeling and from knowing his friend anyway, that Wolfe's attention was just as likely to be taken by a pretty partygoer than anything relating to their job.  
An hour passed, maybe more, and still Wolfe danced and Mal watched. He didn't know what Love would look like as a buggerup, but it would probably be a similar colour to when it appeared in the souls of those around him. Not that he saw it all that often, certainly not as often as it's counterpart. It had taken him a good few years to work out what that dark shape he saw so often was. Wolfe displayed it frequently so presumably had a good understanding, but Mal was still glad he'd managed to piece it together himself rather than ask. It would likely not have made for a pleasant conversation. Besides, as a professional (of sorts) emotion reader, it would be kind of embarassing to have to ask a friend he frequently derided as clueless for advice.  
From up high he could only hear snatches of what was said below. Individual words floated up, but he mostly had to guess what was going on. Couples were introduced, plans were made, gossip was shared and souls flared with emotion.  
"The O'Malley!" exclaimed a regrettably familiar voice.  
"What d'ye want?" replied Mal to the Hippo of Happiness.  
"The O'Malley is at the party!" it replied, grinning as always.  
"I can't be dealin' with ye now, get lost!"  
As always, his complaints were ignored. "A party!"  
"I know what it is, I'm 'ere aren't I?"  
"A love party!"  
Mal rolled his eyes and looked back down to the dancers. Then he frowned. Happiness was correct. The souls were turning Love coloured, pair by pair across the room. He squinted against the bright glare of the feelings and looked closer. It was like a trail meandering around almost aimlessly, leaving shy glances and subtle brushing of hands in its wake. But he couldn't make out what was causing the transformation. It had to be the buggerup, of course, but where was it?  
"Bloody 'ell..." he muttered to himself, ignoring the hippo's squeaks of protest at his language. "Can ye see anythin' down there?"  
"A party!"  
"Thanks."  
After a minute more of watching, Mal got fed up. "It can't be invisible! Not t' me! C'mon," he said, getting to his feet. "Let's go find Ben."  
"It can't be invisible to you," Ben said when Mal had explained the issue.  
"That's what I said."  
"It must just be hiding, perhaps among the dancers or um..." Ben flushed and his aura frazzled slightly. "Beneath the ladies' um, dresses..."  
Mal laughed. "And ye'd know about what's under there?"  
"That is unrelated to the issue at hand!" snapped Ben. "Perhaps we should inform Wolfe of the problem? With the malform I mean," he ammended as Mal began to snigger.  
"Alrigh'. You tell 'im, I'll get back to me box an' keep watchin'."

By the time he had returned to his spot on the balcony, most of the room was affected. You didn't have to have sight like Mal's to be able to see the ball was a resounding success, from the point of view of those who had arranged the match ups at least. A couple of those still single had jealousy rising but did nothing to interfere. And still no sign of Love. 

Wolfe, though obviously not paired up, had only happiness for the couples around him. He didn't even have it in him to feel in the slightest bit irritated as the number of prospective dancing partners dwindled, not that Mal had really been expecting him to. Momentarily tired from dancing, he took refuge at the side of the room and looked up at the balcony. Mal rolled his eyes at the cheery wave. They were meant to be undercover after all. It was just then that Ben emerged from the crowd and tapped Wolfe sharply on the shoulder. Wolfe's soaring soul shrank a moment, tinged with regret - Ben must be reprimanding him for drawing attention to Mal - and Mal couldn't help smirking a little. Watching the little wizard scold the German giant never grew old, nor did watching Ben struggle to understand why his words never had any effect. 

A few more words were exchanged, Ben explaining the situation Mal guessed, as Wolfe studied his shoes in a picture of regret. Mal was about to scan the ballroom floor once again, when Wolfe looked up and suddenly, his soul changed.  
"What?" Mal whispered to himself. It didn't make any sense. But as Ben continued talking and Wolfe stood looking straight ahead and occasionally nodding, his soul was being washed over with love. "Who's 'e lookin' at?" he asked Happiness, who only grinned. "Yer a right 'elp."  
Mal could only stare as Wolfe’s soul’s usual brightness was replaced with love and settled down from where it was dancing to lean mournfully against the wall. He looked across the room for any other lone dancers with the same look, trying to work out who it might be Wolfe was thinking of, but from this angle he couldn’t follow the line of sight and besides, the room was packed.

Then he saw it. Slinking around Wolfe’s feet was the buggerup. It looked kind of like a cat, but it even when he looked directly at it Mal found it difficult to hold an image of it in his head. It was like if the idea of a cat was love coloured and made of smoke. He waited to see if it was showing an interest in any particular couple, but it stayed where it was, wrapping itself around Wolfe’s legs like stay cats sometimes did to him. 

In a flurry of motion he scrambled down the stairs and dodged his way through the waltzing guests, ignoring their looks and whispers, until he was almost at Wolfe, who was still staring off dreamily towards the door. “Wolfe!” he began to shout, but then Love was in front of him. It looked up with wide, innocent eyes.

“What d’ye want?” Mal snarled. A few party goers who heard tittered, wondering to each other who the scruffy man talking to himself was, but he kept both eyes on the buggerup.

“Mew,” said Love, sounding just like a kitten. It twitched it tail and padded towards the door, before pausing and looking back to Mal.

“Ye want me t’ follow?”

Love twitched its tail again and continued out of the room. With one last look towards Wolfe, Mal followed.

“Alright, what is it?” Mal asked once they were in an empty room. It was spare bedroom, but although it was clean (not to Ben’s glistening standards) the air smelt stale, unused. Love hopped up onto the bed and started to pace in little circles.

“I can send ye home,” he continued.

With a complete lack of interest in what he was saying, Love lay down in one swift movement, stretching out on the fine silk sheets.

“Ye don’t want t’ go home?” When there was no response he scowled deeper, but carried on talking, taking a step or two towards the bed. “So what do ye want? Matchin’ people? Doesn’t sound very exctin’ t’ me. I reckon ye’d be better off lettin’ Ben send ye back. No?” Still nothing. “Ah well!” He pounced on the inert buggerup, watched as his hands closed over it. “Stay still!” he shouted as they struggled. Sharp needle-like claws raked at his hands but he kept his grip, he was used to handling cats and knew how to grasp them so there was no way they could wriggle free.

Unless they were a buggerup it seemed. One second Love was yowling in his hands, the next he was holding thin air and Love was curled up on the dresser top as though nothing had happened at all. Clearly, this wasn’t one they were going to win by force.

“Fine,” he grumbled, sitting down on the bed and rubbing away the little droplets of blood welling up from his scratches. “Have it yer way. But what are ye wantin’ with my friend? Ye made ‘im fall in bloody love with someone, have ye?”

Twisting onto its back, Love began to purr. Mal took it as a good sign. “So what?” He racked his brains for why this creature would want to do such a thing, but came up blank. “Bugger this,” he decided. “I’m tellin’ Wolfe and Ben about this.” Love yowled in protest, but Mal was undeterred. "How are ye goin' t' stop me?"

Before he could move to the door Love was leaping at him, a hissing puffball of razor scratches and puncturing teeth. He stumbled back onto the bed and scrabbled to pull the buggerup off him. “Piss off!” he shouted as he managed to push it away, just as the door opened to reveal a terrified maid. 

"I-I heard... shouting..." she stammered, looking around at what was, to her, an almost empty room, except for the clearly deranged man sat on the guest bed. "Sorry to bother you..." She was about to leave, but then stopped and stared once more at Mal. Love stalked over to her and her soul flooded with love. For a second Mal couldn't understand it, there was nobody in the room, no one except for... oh. 

"Knock it off," he snapped at Love, but it only leaped onto the girl's shoulder. Instantly, her fear was gone and she confidently walked towards her, swaying her hips like Mal had seen other girls do when they wanted Wolfe to watch. 

"You have really lovely blue eyes," she told him as she neared the bed. To Mal's relief she didn't come closer than arms length, but even so he shifted away almost without thinking. "But I suppose you hear that all the time."

"Let 'er go," he told Love, steadily avoiding the maid's earnest gaze. 

"Who are you talking to?" she asked, looking around. She smiled and reached out to touch him. "It's just us here."

"That's enough!" Mal jumped to his feet and stumbled backwards from the entranced girl. "Look lady, I don't know who ye are, but ye need to stop this. It's just that bloody buggerup!"

Her pristine smile faltered and sadness rose up behind her. "You... you think I'm a buggerup?" she asked in a small voice. 

"Bloody 'ell... Let 'er go..."

"I only want you to love me back! But... but if you don't..." her eyes cast wildly around the room. "I don't want to live!"

"There's no need for this!" Mal tried to grab at her but she turned and sprinted out the door. In the twists and turns of the house that she knew so well, he had no chance of catching her as she flew up flights of stairs. By the time he reached the attic, she was already poised to fall from the wide window. 

"Alright, I get it!" he exclaimed. "I can't tell the others! I won't! Now get 'er down - safely!"

It was hard to tell with the wispy cat's features, but Mal was pretty sure it gave a self satisfied smirk before springing down onto the wooden floor. The maid's aura cleared, only to be filled with confusion, and then mortification as she realised what she had done. Without waiting for further explanation, or feeling the need to give one, she rushed from the room. Neither made any attempt to meet the others' eye. 

"Guess I'll have t' find some other way of dealin' with ye," Mal sighed. He looked out the open window at the stars. "Least this bloody party must be nearly done."


	2. Duet

The next morning Mal was woken by a crash. When he burst into Wolfe's room he found him looking in bemusement at a shattered glass on the floor. "I thought I didn't touch it..." he said by way of explanation. "Hopefully Ben will not be too angry about the loss."

"Get 'im another," Mal suggested as he glared at Love, curled up on the bedside table top. He was almost certain Wolfe had not been the culprit after all.

With little else to do that day, Mal accompanied Wolfe into town, all the while resolutely resisting to urge to watch Love. This became more difficult as Wolfe returned once more to his questions about how the buggerup had been 'dealt with,' as Mal had put it the night before.

"But without Ben how did you de-summon it?"

"I told ye not t' worry!" Mal snapped. "Complicated business it was."

Wolfe frowned slightly, but Mal changed the subject before he could object. "'ere's as good as any shop. Let's get that cup and back before Ben notices."

 

In hindsight, after the first 'accident' of the day Mal probably should have known better than to suggest Wolfe did the shopping. He might not be sosphiticated enough to appreciate the different styles of glass, to him you either had coffee or ale in one and that was good enough, or tell apart the different colours they apparently were ("No Mal, that is green. The glasses at home have no colour." "Glasses can have colours?!") but at least it didn't have a maleficient buggerup following him. It was hard to tell if it actually was Love or if it was just distracting Wolfe enough that he became careless, but either way it was only by Mal keeping a sharp eye out and righting any delicate wares before they fell that they avoiding being ejected from the shop altogether. As it was, by the time they had found a glass that was a match for Ben's and bought it, the woman behind the counter was getting ready for a fight. Only once they were outside did Mal see her tension drain away.

 

"There, I do not think he will notice," Wolfe said as he replaced the broken glass. "One less thing for us to be in trouble about, eh?"

Mal shrugged. With Love about he had a suspicion that broken glasses were the least of his worries.

 

Over the next few days he did his best to continue as normal. He brushed aside the others' questions about how he had sorted out the buggerup, and though Ben was reluctant to claim the job was done without being told how, they needed the money so he assured the Trancy wizard that all was well. Even without the sight it would have been fairly obvious to Mal that if it wasn't he was in serious trouble with his boss. Not that that was really much cause for concern, the worst Ben could do was dock his pay, which he only used to buy smokes anyway and could easily persuade Wolfe to lend him. The bigger worry was upsetting Love. He didn't need another showing of it's terrifying power. 

Continuing as normal was difficult though when he could see the changes in his friend. Wolfe, usually so present, was distant. His soul was dimmer and even when he played his violin his soul no longer soared but instead remained heavy and love tinged. The songs he played were more melancholy, and over and over again he played snatches of something Mal recognised but could not place. His meals were virtually untouched and not only because of the likelihood they were burnt or underdone, to the point where Mal was considering volunteering for kitchen duty. Although the buggerup itself was seen less and less, its influence remained strong and Mal remained wary. Watching Wolfe's soul had always been a solace for him, but now it was a vigil. He kept track of every twitch, every mood change, every sign of Love's influence and every clue as to what was going on. 

Love liked music, Mal discovered. It oughtn't have been a surprise really, 'music is the foot of love' or whatever that writer bloke had once said, but still it was odd how the buggerup, despite being away wherever it was it spent the rest of its time for hours, would appear seemingly as soon as Wolfe picked up a violin. If he'd been in a more of a moneymaking mind frame Mal would have suggested that he went to busk in the park where all the young courting couples strolled, but bringing Love out into the public on purpose didn't sound like a great idea. However much of a stress Love might be, he had to admit it did have some effect on the music at least. Even Ben would close his book and listen when Wolfe started playing, despite usually complaining about the noise. To Mal the music was beautiful as ever, but the constant sad pieces were beginning to grate.  
"Can't we 'ave somethin' a bit more cheerful?" he suggested one evening as they relaxed alone. It had been a hetic day with what should have been a minor buggerup de-summonning turning into a race all over town. Ben was busy downstairs writing up those fussy little reports he liked to keep. Originally there had been some sort of effort to get Mal and Wolfe to contribute to the record keeping, but Wolfe had insisted on writing his in German as 'the words describe it much better' and Mal had decided that it was a bit late to be bothering with all this letter nonsense now. As Ben had declined the smirking offer of drawing his reports, it had been decided by all that it was best if he was the official record keeper.  
"You don't like this piece?" asked Wolfe, halting the music in the middle of a phase.  
Mal shrugged. "It's all a bit..." he cast around for the right words. "Down."  
"I am sorry," Wolfe said with a smile that didn't match his aura. "That song has become a bit of a favourite of late."  
Mal looked to Love before formulating a response, as had become a habit in the past couple of days, but it was nowhere to be found. Odd, but not entirely unwelcome. Unless that meant it was off causing trouble somewhere else of course, but right now, sitting exhausted, he felt that fell firmly into the category of 'some other bugger's problem' and therefore nothing at all to do with him. However, it did give him a chance to ask if Wolfe was noticing any of Love's influences at all.  
"Wolfe?" he began before pausing again.  
Wolfe looked over with concern. "Yes, what is it Mal?"  
Unfamiliar with the situation, he realised that asking your best friend if they knew they were being followed by a powerful spirit that was making them act weird was not the kind of situation people often found themselves in, which made it a rather difficult subject to broach. "You know at the..."  
He was cut off as the door opened and Ben walked in. His usually neatly combed hair was coming out of his ponytail in strands and he had a splotch of ink on the side of his chin, but his aura was proud besides him. "That report took absolutely ages to finalise!" he announced triumphantly as he sat in an armchair and adjusted his cravat a minute amount. "But I managed to get it into under five thousand words!"  
"That is indeed good news," Wolfe replied with real happiness blooming around him. He beamed and as always, it never failed to surprise Mal that he really could be gladdened by the news about Ben's obsessive notes. "If we are ever called upon to provide such infomation your hard work will be much appreicated. I hope it was not too challenging?"  
"Well, when you've had as much experience as me..." Mal wasn't sure it was worth smiling or rolling his eyes at the little ripple of happiness he saw shoot through Ben's pride at Wolfe's kind, not to mention genuinely meant, words. "Anyway, thank you for the musical accompaniment, it made the time pass much quicker."  
"Ye don't mean t' say that writin' all those words could be... boring?" exclaimed Mal. "Can't be."  
It was testament to how much Ben must have enjoyed the challenge of trying to get their cross-city exploits into a, what was by his definition, a manageable amount, that not even a flash of irritation at the mockery crossed his mind. Instead he simply leaned back in his chair and looked expectantly at Wolfe. "Have you finished playing for the evening?"  
"Mal suggested I try changing the tone of what I play a little," he explained. "Have you any suggestions?"  
Ben frowned a little as he thought. "I'm not sure of the name, but I think you might know it by ear," he said finally. "It sounds a little like..." He closed his eyes and hummed softly. Around him, his aura shifted slightly, taking on that slightly faded look people got when they were remembering something. Mal looked away. He never liked watching when something looked personal.  
"Could you hum it a little louder?" asked Wolfe. "You are very quiet my friend. Be loud! Let us hear the song!"  
"Oh, alright..." Ben hummed louder and his aura swelled around him. It was nothing comparable to Wolfe's soaring form, it stayed in a hazy cloud around him, but different parts twisted and spiralled with remembered emotions. Mal could see it out of the corner of his eye and he began to feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. But he said nothing. He might be a jerk, but he wasn't the kind of jerk to try take away someone's music. Not when he knew how much it could mean to them.  
"Yes, I know that song," Wolfe said. He lifted his violin and began to play along to Ben's humming, tentatively at first but then stronger, until Ben was drowned out and stopped. The emotions kept swirling and Wolfe's joined them this time, until the room was filled with light and music that was joyful and mournful all at once, or maybe that was just Ben's memories, or Wolfe's, or his own, and Mal could hardly move as it overpowered him and the two sets of feeling intermingled to become one.  
Over the music, from somewhere behind the turmoil before him, Mal heard Wolfe's voice. "Come, Ben! Sing the harmony!" 

He hadn't even known Ben could sing, but after a moment his voice joined the cacophony that was filling the space. Mal could no longer see his friends, could barely make out distinct emotions anymore as they all blended together. The music was familiar, or maybe it was the souls that were, after all he lived with them both, they were the only friends he had, and it wasn't that unusual for him to mix up songs and sight and souls and sound. But he was certain he'd never seen their souls connect like this. He scrunched up his eyes in an effort to block it out but the image was seared into his eyelids and continued dancing before him. 

"Mal?" Wolfe didn't stop playing and his voice was barely audible, but the intensity lessened a little and Mal cracked open his eyes, realising that while the room might be a blur to him, to the others he was still plainly visible. 

"I'm fine... Jus' tired," he said, pushing himself to his feet and making to where he knew the door had to be. As always, the souls parted before him, or faded into nothing if he got too close, but when he checked behind him they were pressing close again, far more eager to take up their space once again than was usual. "Ye keep havin' yer fun."

He closed the door quickly when he left, glad to have escaped the intensity a simple evenings' entertainment could cause. And as he smoked his bedtime cigarette, he did his utmost best not to dwell on the last image branded behind his eyelids of two love tinged souls, one bright, one faded, dancing together to the duet of his two only friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is a NaNoWriMo fic I haven't had a chance to edit it yet I'm not sure if my other note explaining this posted so please feel free to point out spelling errors ect. and thanks for reading! :)


	3. Chapter 3

"That is odd."

In Mal's line of business, that was not a line he liked to hear. He looked up and down the mostly deserted highstreet. Glowing streetlights (the non-sloth inbuded kind) reflected off the rain slicked cobbles. The sky was heavy with clouds. Almost all the shops had their shutters up. 

"What is?" he asked Wolfe. "I can't see anythin."

"There." Wolfe pointed at the single lit window in the street. 

It was a cafe, with warm light spilling out onto the pavement. Behind the glass he could make out the shapes of people, holding teacups and laughing. Their auras were hard to make out, but he couldn't see any sign of malice. "What's yer point?"

"That cafe is always closed at six o'clock. Yet it is past nine, and they are still open? Don't you think that is odd?"

Mal shrugged and pulled his scarf up against the cold. "So they wanted a late night? Nothin' t' do wi' us, is it?"

"But they are usually very strict about the timings," Wolfe continued. He slowed his pace and looked through the window as they passed, not in the slightest bit subtle but nobody inside paid him any mind. "I wonder what is happening?"

"Who cares?" Mal walked a few more steps and then stopped to wait for Wolfe, who reluctantly caught up. "How'd ye know 'bout it anyhow?"

"I like that cafe," Wolfe replied simply. "I go there often."

"Ye never go t' a place like that!" Mal scoffed. "Yer talkin' out of yer arse again."

"I am not." Wolfe waited a beat before continuing with his expected complaint. "And that is a disgusting phrase."

"Ye go t' fancy cafes now, do ye?"

"I always like to visit the establishments of a new town. And that place does wonderful tea."

Mal dug into his pocket for a fresh cigarette. "I didn' know that..."

Laughing, Wolfe clapped a hand on his back. It was warm, even through his coat in the cold night. "Just because I am your only friend does not mean you know all of me!" he explained. "I do not sit doing nothing when you are not around after all. Surely you cannot have thought that?"

"No, stupid. Just didn't think ye'd go t' somewhere like that, is all."

"Well now you know. Besides, I am sure there are things about you I am unaware of, though I dread to think what exactly," chuckled Wolfe. 

"Aye..." agreed Mal, turned his head slightly to check on Love, who was stalking them silently from the edge of the streetlights. He didn't mention the things about himself Wolfe didn't know.

 

The following evening they were with Ben as they passed the cafe, on their way back from another inn the wizard had been forcibly convinced to visit with them. Wolfe's cafe was open late yet again and this time Wolfe stopped outside the window to look in. 

"Yeah, we know, it's still open..." complained Mal. He tried to stamp some warmth back into his feet, but his worn boots slipped on the ice and he threw out a hand to steady himself and planted it on the nearest stabilising surface, which happened to be Ben.

"Careful!" he snapped, brushing Mal's hand off his shoulder. 

"What's the matter?" he asked Wolfe. 

"These look like the same people as last night..." murmured Wolfe. He leaned against the glass, using his plam to keep his forehead from the cold surface. 

"Leave 'em alone," Mal said. "They don't want scarin' by a giant German lookin' in. And I don't want t' be standinfg around 'ere freezin' my..." Ben glared and Mal declined to finish the sentence. 

"What is he looking at?" he asked Mal, when Wolfe offered no explanation.

"Summat about the bloody cafe being open too late, I dunno," Mal replied, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. He noticed Ben was shivering. "Ye alrigh'?"

"I'm fine..." Ben held himself stiffly in an attempt to keep still. "Can we be getting back now?"

"Mal, Ben, look at this." Wolfe pointed inside. "It is rather messy, wouldn't you agree?"

Seeing as the sooner Wolfe had finished this tangent the sooner they would get into the warmth, they obediently looked. Personally, Mal couldn't see the problem with a few spills here and there, or the point in having to wash up every mug and glass and bowl he used immediately. It made much more sense just to leave it until either they had no reusable ones or Ben was screeching about what a tip the office before doing the washing up for them anyway. But that didn't seem to be the answer Wolfe was expecting. "Kinda?" he hazarded. "They'll sort 'em out later. It's no worry."

Ben's answer was probably closer to the mark. "It's an absolute mess in there!" he declared. "They ought to be ashamed of themselves! I will most certainly not be frequenting such an establishment again!"

"Again?" Mal rolled his eyes. "Not you too?"

Ben ignored him, caught up in his rant. "And they're usually so stringent about the neatness of the place! I tell you what, I'm going to go in and talk to the management immediately!" 

"Ben, pack it in," grumbled Mal. "Let's jus' get 'ome, alrigh'?" He looked to Wolfe for backup automatically, but he only smiled and shrugged.

"I would also like to know about the change in policy."

Mal glanced around for Love, but the buggerup was elsewhere. So it wasn't one of its tricks then. The worse that could happen was he got frostbite waiting around outside and at least then he would have full right to never shut up about it. "Fine. In ye go."

Surrounded by a faint cloud of anger, Ben pushed open the cafe door and stormed in. Wolfe followed, his aura full of curiosity but no fear. 

Mal had intended to wait for them outside as while the others might be able to handle a fancy cafe like that it was hardly his sort of place, not to mention it was full of loud people. However, after a brief consideration of how bloody cold it was out here, he decided he could deal with a headache as long as he still had his fingers. He ducked in through the door and almost bumped into Wolfe. "What'cha doing stood there?" he exclaimed.

"I'm... not sure..." Wolfe replied, looking around the room with a wide grin. Then, without warning, he swept Mal into a hug. "How fortunate you decided to join us after all!"

"Gettorf!" Mal wriggled out from the bearhug and took a step back, straightening out his scarf. "What's th' matter wi' yer?"No matter, I only wished to greet you."

"Ye only saw me a second ago!" Mal squinted at Wolfe's soul for signs of spirit interference, but the only thing he saw was a bright flame of friendship. 

"I'm only 'ere t' keep warm." He scanned the room. Despite the late hour it was as packed as the most popular inn on Christmas Eve. Every little huddle of armchairs and loveseats was full of posh patrons, sipping from dainty cups and laughing gaily. Mal began to suspect Wolfe came here for reasons other than the tea; almost all the customers were young ladies and likely of the pretty variety. Why Ben had ever been here, Mal was unsure. 

"Where's Ben got ter?" he asked when he couldn't make out the familiar frazzles, or the cloud of anger that had swept him in. 

Everyone was bathed in a friendly glow, quite literally. Although the room was as busy as the Trancey Manor kitchen, there were no loud conflicting emotions to scream at him. Instead, the comforting shapes of friendliness floated above each little group of friends. Mal could feel himself relax at just the sight. If only all crowds could be this docile then he might actually seek them out occasionally. He could see why the cafe was so popular with this kind of atmosphere.

"He's just over at the counter." Wolfe pointed to where Ben was stood leaning on the counter, laughing with one of the waitresses. The issue of... whatever it was he had walked in to complain about must have been solved remarkably quickly, as there was no trace of his strong feeling of moments before. 

"Who's yer friend?" Mal asked, leaning on the high wooden counter next to Ben. 

"Oh this is..." Ben looked to the brown haired girl. "Sorry, what is your name?"

"My name is Mina," she said, and stuck out a hand to Ben, who took it with only a moment's hesitation. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine. I'm Ben."

Mina looked expectantly at Mal. "Mal," he supplied. "Uh, Jack O'Malley that is."

"What would you like to drink, Mal?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I'm alrigh'," he said. It was as though he had kicked her dead grandma's dead kitten. Sadness washed over her soul, top down, he could see it oozing through all of her form. Ben gave him a distainful look as he reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder in consolation. To his surprise, Mal found he was genuinely alarmed. "I would!" he tried to clarify, suddenly filled with disraught for upsetting her. "But I haven' got any money!"

The sadness dripped off Mina, leaving her friendly soul shining once more. "Don't worry Mal! All drinks are on the house tonight for my friends!"

 

"She seems nice," Ben commented, putting down their cups as they all crowded around a spare table. Mal bagged the single armchair, leaving Wolfe and Ben settled into a loveseat too small to sit with any room. 

"Very friendly."

"Thought ye knew 'er?"

"No, I've never seen her before in my life."

"Then 'ow come yer talkin' t' 'er?"

Ben frowned. "I had something to say, I think..."

"We were going to enquire about the piles of dishes," Wolfe said, pointing at the collected tea-stained teacups on the table and little cake-crumb smudged plates left on the coffee table.

"Yes, that was it. But once we started talking I thought that really there was no need to get upset over a silly small matter like that, not between friends."

"Friends?"

"Well she was a very friendly girl."

 

After about three more mugs of tea Mal stretched and felt his back click from sitting still too long. A familiar feeling was building but it wouldn't take long to deal with. "Reckon I can smoke in 'ere?" he asked Wolfe."You do not normally bother to check.""Yeah well, seems rude to fill a friend's cafe with smoke," he shrugged. "I'll step out the front a sec."

 

Just as his hand touched the door, a young lady sat at a nearby counter called out. "Oh, you couldn't possibly be leaving just yet!"   
"Who? Me?"

"Please stay a little while longer!" she implored him. "Here, come take a seat next to me." She shuffled to the side of the sofa she was occupying and patted the space next to her. 

Mal looked to Wolfe and Ben for help, but they were deep in conversation, heads bowed together close. The woman had no malice in her soul that he could see, just concern that he should want to leave so soon and a desire to be friends. That he could do, he supposed.

"Thank goodness you didn't leave before we could have a nice chat!" she exclaimed. "That would be such a shame, don't you agree?"

"Yeah..." Mal said. It seemed to be the expected answer.

"I'm Florrie," the woman continued, holding out a hand. "Mrs Florence De Montfort in full, but who has time for that mouthful? And this is my husband, Geoffrey De Montfort, and our friends, Mr Dennis Halder and Mrs Jeanie Halder. We met just yesterday evening and have been talking ever since. They're an absolute riot!" The Halders chuckled and beamed at the praise. "Now, do tell us your name, so we can all become proper friends!"

"Jack O'Malley."

Never in his life had Mal received such a warm reception to simply giving his name. His hand was shook by every member of the little group at least twice. Even stranger was the lack of hidden motivations in their auras. Somehow, these high end people really were happy to be introduced to him. And it was more than that, they wanted to talk to him, ask him about his life and hear his opinions on things. Half the time he didn't care himself what he thought, but the atmosphere was infectious and soon he was chatting with the toffsl like they'd been friends all their lives.It was only when he could feel his fingers really itching for a smoke that he reluctantly got to his feet. 

"I'm just goin' fer a cigarette," he explained. 

"There's a charming garden out the back," Florrie said. "Would you like me to show you?"

Mal looked to Geoffrey, even among friends he knew it was uncommon for a fancy man's wife to accompany a man like him anywhere, but Geoffrey simply waved them away as he listened enthralled in a story the Holdens were telling. 

 

Outside the air was sharp and caught at Mal's lungs as he lit the cigarette. Florrie hovered next to him, her arms crossed under her pale shawl. "Look, the sky is beginning to turn pink!"

"Yeah..." Mal agreed, glancing up at the slightly lighter sky. It wasn't that he wanted to keep secrets from his friends, but he didn't want to risk being rejected once they knew he could see their souls. That sort of talent wasn't great for keeping people around. 

As he sucked in the smoke, Mal relaxed and could begin to better appreciate the sunrise he could just make out over the high garden walls. He'd heard people wax lyrical on the beautiful colours and all the nonsense many times, but they'd never interested him personally. Watching the sky just get a bit lighter was hardly riveting stuff. It wasn't until Wolfe had played him a piece of music he claimed was inspired by a sunset that he began to develop some sort of appreciation for them. They still looked as bland as ever of course, but now all he had to do was remember how Wolfe's soul had looked when he'd played that song, and he felt he had a small glimpse of what it was really like.

"Wolfe..." he murmured to himself. There was something about him that caught in his mind. He'd been sat with him earlier, Ben too. How he'd ended up with a completely separate group of friends he wasn't quite sure. Maybe he should invite them over once they were back inside.

"What did you say, Mal dear?"

"Nothin'. Don't worry."

"Who is Wolfe?"

"Jus' my friend. I came 'ere with 'im and Ben actually." Mal paused and glanced again at the dawn sky. "Wasn' it nighttime when we got 'ere?

"Florrie gave a laugh. "Gosh, doesn't time fly when you're having fun with your friends? So tell me, what is this Wolfe like? Is he tall? Blonde? German? Handsome?"

"Yes, apparently, yes and 'ow should I bloody know?" 

"Does he have a lady friend?"

Mal shrugged. "Not exactly."

"Oh. What about a..." Florrie looked furtively about before lowering her voice and finishing, "gentleman friend?"

"What?" It took Mal a second to work out what she meant, but he couldn't help cracking a smile when he did catch up. "Naw, nothin' like..." he trailed off. Florrie seemed like the sort of person who might have a clue about love. "Say you've got a friend who's in love..."

"A friend? Or a 'friend?'" asked Florrie with a slyly teasing smile. 

"Oi! This is nothin' to do wi' me!" Mal protested. "I don' go fer that, that romance nonsense!""You sure?" Florrie wheelded with a wicked grin. "A pretty girl never caught your eye before? Or a pretty boy?"  
"No!" Mal realised his outburst had been quite a lot louder than he'd intended. "No," he repeated, softer this time. "I've never... I don't..." He sighed, dropped his eyes, then met her concerned look again with a smirk. "Travellin' doesn' leave much time fer all that, y'know."

Florrie gave a laugh. "Whatever you say, Mal. So, about this friend of yours?"

"How'd ye know who 'e loves?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"It bloody should be, but it isn't!"

"Well, who does he act most in love around? Is there anyone he spends a lot of time with?"

"There's me... but that's not it!" Mal hastily added when he saw Florrie's aura shift. "And there's our friend but, but..."

"Is your friend well mannered to this other friend of yours?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Is he happiest talking to her?"

It didn't seem worth correcting her. After all, Ben did have quite long hair, and although as Wolfe had pointed out many times Mal did also have quite long hair, at least he didn't tie his up in a bloody stupid looking ponytail. He tried to think back to times he'd seen Wolfe and Ben together, without him interfering. When someone was always as bright as Wolfe it could be hard to compare their soul at different times. But he couldn't deny that Wolfe was happy around Ben. And then there had been that time with the music... "Ye really think 'e could like... 'er?"

Florrie covered her mouth and giggled. "Well, even if he doesn't it doesn't mean there can't be a little excitement in your life does it? Matchmaking is such fun!"

On the verge of protesting that matchmaking really wasn't the best course of action here, Mal stopped. "If they were matched up," he began slowly. "Would Love stop bein' such a nuisance?"

"I wouldn't describe love as a nuisance!" exclaimed Florrie. Mal resisted the urge to tell she should try meeting the bloody thing. "But yes, if your friend's feeling are known to be requited then he will certainly feel better if his feelings are causing him inconvenience."

"So how'd ye go about this matchmaking business then?"

With a squeal, Florrie clapped her hands together. "I have so many books I can lend you about this!"

"Ah yeah... I can't like... read or anythin'," Mal explained.

"Don't worry, I can always explain it to you some time or another." Florrie rubbed her hands together. "But if you've quite finished I think we should go back inside. It's freezing out here!"

On the way back to their seats, Mal pushed through the wrong door and found himself stood in the little storage room at the back. It was filled with piles of crates with huge stencilled labels on, some of which he could recognise as saying things like 'tea' and 'coffee.'  
"Oops, it's the other way," Florrie said, tugging on his sleeve gently. Mal remained frozen to the spot, staring up at the far corner of the room. "What are you looking at?"

"I think it's... Friendliness."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait I decided to split this chapter into two as it seemed to fit better. Hopefully this fic will be finished mid December kinda time (it's a present for someone actually! :3 ) 
> 
> also apologies for the mess of formatting the nanowrimo website is not a fan of write or die it seems


	4. Chapter 4

"Ye'd be better off back in there," Mal said, nodding back towards the main room. "I can sort this out."  
"Sort what out?" asked Florrie, looking around the storage room. "There's nothing here! What did you mean by 'friendliness?'"  
"A buggerup."  
"Oh! How can you tell?"  
Telling the truth was faster than any excuse he could concoct. "I can see 'em." Mal held out his arms across the doorway. "Now get out before it 'urts ye."  
Florrie ignored his advice and gently lifted his arm out the way and she stepped into the room. "It can't be much harm surely! Not something like Friendliness! Where is it?"  
"Up in that top corner there," Mal said, pointing. "Think it's nappin' or somethin'. Hasn't done anythin' yet."  
"What does it look like?"  
"Um... really friendly looking. Makes ye want t' trust it. An' 'appy. But don't be tricked, they can cause trouble when they want."  
"Well it hasn't done any harm yet, has it?" Florrie stepped nearer to the crates and extended a hand. "Hello, Friendliness!"  
Friendliness stirred and stood up, looking down at them both with the feeling of a smile. Its shape was hard to define, but seeing it standing put Mal in mind of a dog, one of those old shaggy ones that would come and lay their head on you as soon as you sat on a street corner. "It's awake," he warned Florrie. He pointed an accusing finger at the buggerup. "So yer th' one what's messin' stuff around 'ere. What do ye want?"  
"Friends," it replied, but it sounded more like a bark than a voice. In one leap it was on the floor, wagging it's ethereal tail as it looked between the two. Mal frowned as he resisted the urge to reach out his hand but it was hard to remain on his guard. It had to be a part of its influence he knew but it looked just so strokable!  
"Careful..." Mal warned Florrie, who was still looking up towards the corner. "'s going over t' ye. Looks like a friendly dog."  
"I love dogs!" Florrie exclaimed. "Who's a good doggie? Uh... where's the good doggie?" She gave a start as Friendliness leaned against her, before leaning over and rubbing it. "Aww, isn't he lovely?"  
"Who brought ye 'ere?" asked Mal. "Wha' went wrong wi' th' summonin'?"  
"Nothing! I am doing my job and making Master proud of me!" Friendliness barked.  
"What's this job then?"  
"Some of the workers were arguing over someone and Master didn't want it to ruin the mood in the cafe! So he summoned me to help everyone get on better!" Like a well trained dog expecting a treat after performing a trick, Friendliness looked towards Mal with it's tail beating and tongue dangling. "But once they had made up they all went back to work and left me here..." Friendliness's tail drooped slightly. "I've been here by myself for ages!"  
"When was this?"  
"Ages ago! Ages and ages and ages..." Friendliness began to howl the words and Mal had to stop himself from rushing to comfort him.  
Florrie must have been able to sense its change in mood. "What's the matter with it?" she asked urgently. "Is it okay?"  
"Some idiot summoned it t' sort out a fight an' it worked too well," Mal explained. "Bin stuck 'ere alone since. They musta got 'stracted in there wi' all th' new friends."  
"Oh poor thing!" Florrie pulled Friendliness into a tight hug and the howling subsided. "Can you desummon it?"  
"Me?" Mal snorted. "Do I look like a wizard? No, we'll haveta get Ben t' help."  
How to tear Ben away from any friends he may have managed to make turned out to be solved easily when Mal intercepted him on the way back from the washroom.   
"De-summonin'," he said by way of explanation. "Now."  
"Should we get Wolfe?" Ben asked. "He's just talking to those nice people there about the violin. Some man's wife is apparently interested in learning..."  
"No, we'll get dragged in too," Mal decided. "I'll get it t' be good."  
Once Mal had explained to Friendliness that if he sat still inside the de-summoning circle Ben was going to draw around it then it could be reunited with all its friends in wherever it was that buggerups came from, it was more than happy to help. Unfortunately, this led to it being as unhelpful as most buggerups as all it's attempts to aid Ben with drawing the circle meant there was a lot of chalk smudging. At one point it tried to take the chalk off Ben which led to everyone being forced to endure one of his rants, this time on the new theme of 'unseen malform slobber.'  
Mal leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, occasionally snorting at Ben's efforts to work around the invisible slobber option. Next to him stood Florrie, scrribbing in a notebook between calls of encouragement. It was unclear whether or not she was encouraging Friendliness or Ben.   
"Mal?" she asked suddenly.   
"Yeah?"  
"Is it because of Friendliness that we became friends?"  
"Thought t'was obvious. Folks like ye don' jus' get on wi' folks like me."  
"So what will happen once the spirit is de-summoned. Will we remain friends do you think?" As usual, Mal's first instinct, as well as numbers two through at least five, was to try avoid having to comfort a female, especially over a stupid thing like this, but her soul was darkening sadness and there were spikes of worry piecing the warm friendly glow. He bit his tongue. " We got on because of Friendliness but did that make us enjoy each others company? And what about all the friendships people have made through talking in however long we've been here?"  
Mal shrugged. Nothing helpful came to mind. "I dunno, do I? Guess things'll go back t' normal."  
"Then please take this." Florrie ripped out the page of her notebook she had been working on and handed it to him.   
"I can't read..." Mal began to remind her, but there were no words on the page. Instead there were little sketches of a stick man and stick lady undertaking various activities. "Wha's this?"  
"It's your guide to matchmaking!" Florrie giggled, rays of happiness bursting from her soul again. "If we will no longer be friends after this then at least you will still have some form of guidance in your efforts."  
Mal carefully folded the paper and stowed it in his jacket pocket, next to the cigarettes. "Thanks," he muttered.  
"Mal, can you make sure Friendliness knows not to move," instructed Ben. "I'm about to begin the de-summoning ritual."  
"'e can 'ear ye, ye know," replied Mal, waving a hand. "Tell 'im yerself."  
"I should get back to my husband," Florrie said. "I don't want him getting all confused at why he's sat with the Holdens if this does undo all the friendships. It was lovely meeting you Mal." Before he could react, she pulled him into a quick hug. Twice in one day he had been assaulted in such a manner, if there was a buggerup of hugs he would be having words if they ever met. Not too stern words though, he supposed.  
"Nice to meet you too, Ben!" she added as she swept out the door.  
After the de-summoning Ben and Mal collected Wolfe from where they had left him, drinking tea in the main cafe. Mina was beginning to usher people out, various workers were collecting up the dirty crockery and Wolfe was in conversation with Florrie and her husband. When he saw Mal waving at him to follow from the door, he lingered a moment longer and then followed out the door, his spirit slightly subdued. Mal was somewhat glad to see Florrie giving them a final wave as they walked past the window, although it might have been to Wolfe. Nobody seemed angry but there was already growing confusion as people came more to their senses.   
At the very least, Friendliness's influence hadn't completely left the place, although the souls were beginning to fill with other emotions. It was an almost comforting sight. People weren't meant to be so simple. There were always a whole swirling range of emotions in every single person and while it gave him a headache, it was at least less creepy than seeing everyone bathed in a uniform glow.  
There was however one emotion Mal was not glad to see re-entering people's souls. One person's soul in particular.   
He scowled at Love as it walked along the rooftops just ahead of them. If it hadn't been the cause of the argument that had caused Friendliness to be needed in the first place he would smash Wolfe's violin. Tucking a hand into his inside pocket, pulled out a smoke and smirked as he felt his hand brush the secret weapon Florrie had supplied. 

 

After realising the first drawing was showing a candle on the table between the stick man and stick woman and not a terrifying buggerup, the first plan began to make more sense. Candlelit dinners were perfect for romantifying people, everyone knew that. While Mal had no first-hand experience he’s still heard stories and had parents; it wasn’t that hard to figure out what was needed. Candle, food, bit of privacy – boom. Romance. And hopefully a more manageable Love. 

After Florrie's comments, he started looking at Wolfe and Ben differently. Love was almost always at the forefront of Wolfe's souls these days and while he was yet to see it from Ben apart from as a memory, with Florrie's guidance helping him push them along, it couldn't be long until it spread. That had to be what Love was after. It made a lot of sense when he looked at it from that angle. After all, Wolfe was the only person who would put up with Ben's incessant fussing, and was well mannered, talented and kind. Media reliably informed Mal that these were important qualities for a partner. And as for Ben... well he was apparently blond, which was Wolfe's favourite after redheads. He could be kind, in his own way. He didn't drop cigarette ash everyone, he could be trusted with money, he could be taken busy places, he didn't get them arrested (much) and Mal had to admit, he had probably given Wolfe a bit of a low bar for acceptable friends. 

Ever since he set fire to an egg, Mal had been banned from attempting cooking alone. His attempts at making Wolfe food had always been under his careful watch, which prevented them being the dangerous side of inedible. But the point of a romantic meal was the one being romatified wasn't supposed to do the effort so obviously Wolfe couldn't 'supervise' Mal/do it for him. Anyway, trying to eat something recently on fire was unlikely to be romantic for any involved, so even without the ban Mal wouldn't attempt this alone. Therefore, Ben would have to put some work into romantifying Wolfe.

Opportunity came when Wolfe announced in the afternoon he was going out and wouldn't be back until late, then left with his violin, a smile and, best of all, Love.   
As soon as the front door shut, Mal jumped to his feet. "Right, c'mon Ben!" he announced. "Cookin'!"  
"I'm not hungry yet," replied Ben without looking up from his book.   
"Not fer ye. Fer Wolfe."  
Nobody, not even the stubbornest wizard in Widdershins, could resist Mal when he had a mind to make you do something.   
"He won't be back for hours," Ben protested as he washed his hands. "Do we have to start now?"  
"Yes. Why're ye wastin' yer time wi' that? Cookin' time."  
"Why are you suddenly so keen to make Wolfe supper?" Ben squinted over his glasses. "This had better not be another one of your 'pranks.' They're not funny, and besides, April Fools Day is months off yet!"  
"What, we can't do summat nice fer our friend?"  
Ben sighed, but nevertheless rummaged in a cupboard before he pulled out a battered cookery book. "Okay, what are we making?"  
Mal shrugged. "I dunno. Whatever takes yer fancy."  
"What does Wolfe like best?"  
"Most food. Sausages. 'e's German. Potatoes. That sorta stuff. Does it matter?"  
"Not everyone has your indifference to food."  
"Not everyone sees it as muck."  
"We'll make stew," Ben decided. "We've got the stuff in the pantry. You can fetch it all," he added.   
"Aye aye sir," Mal muttered, but did as he was told.  
At first, Ben's precision of instructions grated on Mal. Everything had to be exactly as it was in the recipe book or Ben threatened to throw the whole thing out and make them start again. It wasn't as if there were even that many things you could do wrong when making stew, but according to Ben, Mal was doing all of them.  
"Why're ye so uptight 'bout it?" he snapped.   
"Don't you want to get it right?" replied Ben, anger flaring behind him. "If we're making food for a friend then we have to do it well or we might as well not bother. Now let me show you."  
He took the knife off Mal and began chopping the vegetables much more efficiently. "Look, you need to hold the knife like this, so you won't slice yourself."  
"Yeah, yeah, lemme have it back."  
"There, now you've got it. I'll measure out the herbs."  
Mal had never watched Ben cook before, usually it was Wolfe who did it, but he was amazed at how calm the usually frazzling man became. It wasn't until Ben began humming under his breath that he commented on it.   
"Ye like cookin', eh?"  
Jumping guiltily, his soul shrank down behind Ben. "Uh, yes, I suppose," he admitted. "It comes with instructions, see." He nodded at the recipe book, the brown and stained pages held open with the salt and pepper pots. "You follow then and you always get what you want, unlike magic."  
"Why don't ye do it more?"  
"Wolfe's better. I don't know how, he doesn't even use the recipe book, but he is."  
"Mebbe ye don't need a stupid book t' tell ye what t' do," suggested Mal with a shrug. "Reckon ye could figure it out jus' fine."  
Ben shook his head. "No, it's much better if we stick to the recipe." It didn't seem worth pushing the point.   
The only bread they had left was a couple of stale slices, so they decided to walk out and see if the bakery was still open. It was and they were able to buy the last loaf of crusty white bread, a little bit of a luxury but Ben didn't question it and Mal figured it was worth it. After being confronted for spending half their busking money on flowers for a girl, Wolfe had once explained this 'investment' idea, a bit like gambling but more reliable. You put in a bit of money and you get more stuff out. Seeing the payoff of buying flowers had been a bit trickier for Mal to grasp, but now he got the idea. Anything to try make Love piss off.  
On the street corner sat a busker, playing a familiar tune on the fiddle. Compared to Wolfe it was nothing special, but Ben still went and tossed him a few coins.   
"Whatcha go an' do that fer?"   
“It’s my favourite song,” Ben replied, refusing to meet Mal’s eyes.   
He realised why it was familiar when he saw the shift in the aura. “The one ye got Wolfe t’ play, right?”  
“Yes, that one.”  
Mal hadn’t given Ben’s personal life much thought. He tried not to think about anyone’s too much. It felt wrong when he already knew far more than he should. But this time he couldn’t help asking, “why’s it so special t’ ye?”  
From the colour of Ben’s soul and what he’d seen before it wasn’t that hard for Mal to guess, but he wanted to hear it from his friend, not his friend’s emotions. If it was what he suspected, it was a story that deserved to be given freely.   
“It has… memories attached.”  
“Good ones?” He could see they were, although the shape was more obscure than previously.   
Ben gave a half smile. "Bittersweet is what most people would call it." He paused, considering if he should say more, if it was safe for him to say more. "While I was doing my degree there was an informal sort of dance club. One of the students used to play it on the piano for us a lot. It was my, my partner's favourite. Dance partner I mean," he added.   
"Ye can dance?" Mal laughed and shook his head. "Yer takin' th' piss!"  
"I'm rather good I'll have you know!" retorted Ben. He crossed his arms and 'hmphed,' but his soul was smiling. "And it's a sophisticated skill to have."  
"I can dance, don't make me that!"  
"Just because Wolfe is playing the violin at the same time does not make drunkenly falling over 'dancing!'"  
"And ye and yer girl could do better, huh?"  
"Yes!" Ben replied hotly, his spirit billowing out around him in a thundercloud of feeling. "Uh, she won trophies for it you know. Represented the college in competitions and all."  
Mal frowned. "There are women at t' university?"  
Instantly, Ben's aura went wild, lightning strikes of panic and hell knows what crackling around him as he scrambled for an answer. "Well, under some circumstances then the faculty will allow the uh, the..."  
"Ben."  
He went silent.  
"It's alright."  
Still silence. They walked almost halfway down the street before Mal burst out laughing. "Ye did that fancy dancin' like Wolfe does!"

 

"I'm off ter bed," Mal announced as soon as Wolfe walked through the door, almost tripping over Love as it sulked around him.   
Stopping in the middle of lighting the table candles, Ben looked up at him. "But what about-" he began, but Mal gave an enormous yawn.   
"Wiped out," he declared, with a glance at Love. It regarded him with cool interest, but he hoped that meant he was doing the right thing. "See ya. Night!" 

Before Wolfe or Ben could say anything more he shut the kitchen door and loudly clomped up the stairs, jumping twice on the top step to make sure they heard, with a few more yawns added in just to be extra convincing. He left it a few minutes, smoking an evening cigarette before sneaking out to listen from the top of the stairs. Feeling a bit like a child eavesdropping on adults again, he crouched down and strained to hear what they were doing. 

Low murmurs, clinks of cutlery and occasional laughter. Too quiet to make out the actual words. No screaming as Love caused outright chaos at least, which was basically a win. 

No loud declarations of love either, which was not as good. However unlikely, it would have cleared things up a lot quicker. He had been half expecting Love to appear and give him some indication of how he was doing, from one reluctant 'team member' to another. But then again, being coerced into attempting to manipulate his friends' relationships under fear of their demise wasn't exactly what he'd call being on the same team. He could only hope that this was what Love wanted and that Florrie's absurd suggestions about his two best/only friends was correct. Captain Barber couldn't be counted as a friend as usually that required more connection than 'occasionally saving this whole damned town together' and more affection that 'sometimes puts up with me.' Florrie couldn't exactly count either, not when there was no way in hell they'd become connected without Friendliness's influence. And there was hardly anyone else he even interacted with regularly. Making new friends was hard when you can't stand crowds, get banned by the police from card games and hate people anyway. The hating people part was probably why he didn't mind the lack of friendly company in the first place. Besides, two friends in the world might not seem like a whole lot, but it was still two times as many as he had before meeting Wolfe. Not that Ben counted as a friend half the time. Certainly not when he tried to stop him smoking inside. He tried to imagine what might be happening downstairs. He'd heard stories, he'd had parents. He knew in theory what those romantic dinner things were like, though it was hard to picture with Wolfe and Ben. There wasn't much bickering, or German in the models he knew, not to mention the most obvious difference. Not that it mattered. He'd try pretty much anything to get Love to release Wolfe. Again, he hoped Florrie had been right and this would work, both in making Wolfe happy and getting rid of Love. Whatever came next could be dealt with once the danger was past, not before. No point in worrying about his place until there was a real problem not just in his head after all. 

“Enjoy yer food last night?” Mal asked Wolfe between mouthfuls of breakfast the next morning. “Anythin’ happen?”  
Wolfe shook his head. “It was an enjoyable and peaceful meal,” he said. His soul was unchanged and Love was pacing under the table somewhere. Failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I think I messed up on chapters and part of this should go with the last one I might sort it at some point but nanowrimo didn't leave me much time for that. NGL I'm kinda struggling with this and trying to get it done in time to give a neater version as a present for someone so any suggestions on how it's going are very welcome thank you   
> also thanks for everyone who left comments before I didn't get back to sorry I didn't know what to say because I wasn't sure what I was going to change in this chapter but yeah thanks :)
> 
> (apologies again for the formatting god the nanowrimo website is confusing)


	5. Chapter 5

Flowers were not romantic as far as Mal was concerned. To be fair, most things weren’t, but flowers made less sense than almost all others. A pack of smokes might be a welcome gift if someone was showing their affection, an ugly plant that would drop bits everywhere and wilt within days not so much. Again, they were probably one of those things better appreciated in colour.   
Still, if the universe, or at least Florrie, demanded that flowers were needed for romance to occur then Mal was not going to argue this time. Originally he planned to get something nice from the florists just off the main street, but when he realised how many cigarettes he could buy for the price of one measly bunch, he took to the parks. He could explain to Wolfe why he wasn’t welcome there by the park attendant anymore another time.   
Armed with a bunch of daffy-dills, he snuck into Wolfe’s room and carefully laid the flowers on the pillow, as Florrie’s drawing seemed to show. Practically perfect, if you ignored the few clumps of mud dropped here and there. Mal stepped back to admire his work briefly and had to cut short a yell when Love leapt out of nowhere onto the bed.   
“I’m helpin’ ye, alright!” he hissed, holding out a placating hand. “Just speedin’ things up a bit. Don’t be mad!”  
Love regarded him for a long moment, before slowly turning and nuzzling its head against the petals. If he didn’t look too hard, Mal could pretend it wasn’t slightly phasing through them. “Yer ‘appy with it then?” he asked tentatively.  
He took its quiet purring as a yes. It was probably purring. He was almost certain cats didn’t growl. 

“Mal? Do you know anything about these?” Wolfe asked as he entered the room, bunch of daffy-dills in one hand and his violin case in the other.  
Keeping up an innocent face when questioned by Wolfe was always tricky. Being born with what he’d once overheard a neighbour describing as a ‘naturally shifty face’ didn’t help either. With anyone else Mal could tell them the sky was green with a straight face (it might be for all he knew) but it always felt like Wolfe could see right through him.   
“No, where’d ye get them?”  
“I found them on my pillow…” Wolfe held them at arm’s length and studied them carefully. “They do not appear to be magical, do they?”  
Mal shook his head and Wolfe sighed. “Ah well, it is a mystery then. Maybe one of your buggerups, eh?”  
“I don’t think they would do that…” Mal started to say, but Wolfe had already swept towards the kitchen. “Hey, where ye goin’?”  
“To throw them away,” Wolfe replied. “The buggerup didn’t realise we don’t have any vase to keep them in. They’ll wilt if I leave them out too long.”  
“Hang on, hang on!” Mal scurried after him. “Ye can’t do that!”  
“Why not?”  
“Well… what if Ben gave it ye? And then ‘e found it in th’ rubbish? How would ‘e fell then?”  
“Since when have you been so concerned over him?” chuckled Wolfe, before considering his words more carefully. “But why would Ben leave them?”  
“Ah…” Mal looked around and spotted Love out the corner of his eyes, sitting patiently, watching him. Eventually, he shrugged. “I dunno, do I? Why do people give them silly things anyway?” Love was still staring so he pushed it further. “Mebbe ‘e likes ye or summat.”  
“No, that can’t be right,” said Wolfe shaking his head. “You would have noticed… wouldn’t you?”   
“’as been actin’ kinda funny of late…” Mal left the suggestion hanging, and Wolfe’s aura shifted to alarm.   
“I need to be going now,” he said, striding towards the door. Love leapt to its feet and followed.   
“Where are ye goin’ now?”  
“Just out, there is no need to worry.”  
“Yer always going out!”  
“I have other things to do.” Wolfe opened the door and paused, looking back at Mal with his soul swirling. Love twisted around in agitated circles, its ‘fur’ fizzing like Ben’s spirit. Great. His one job was not to piss it off and what did he manage? “I will sort this out with Ben, don’t worry.”  
Before Mal could reply, the door was slammed shut and he was lefts standing alone and confused. 

Barely fifteen minutes later the door slammed back open, making Mal jump in his seat. He looked up, expecting Wolfe to be back to explain what the hell was going on, but it was Ben. You didn’t need to see spirits to tell he was furious.   
“And what exactly do you think you’re playing at?” he demanded without giving Mal a chance to even say hello.   
“I don’t-“  
“Whatever game you’ve cooked up, it’s not funny!”  
Mal got to his feet. “Why’re ye so worked up? Did ye run into Wolfe?”  
“Yes I did! And do you know what he had? Flowers! Apparently left by me!”  
Groaning, Mal rubbed his forehead. “An’ what did ye say?”  
“I let him know in no uncertain terms that they were certainly not from me. He seems to think that Happiness spirit of yours did it but it was you, wasn’t it.”  
From where it had been dozing on the mantelpiece, the hippo perked up an ear and showed an interest for the first time. When it realised it was being blamed, it shot what was probably its version of an accusatory glare at Mal and took refuge behind Ben.   
Unaware, Ben continued. “I should have known something was up before. Probably would have twigged sooner if you’d remembered you need wine for a,” he spat the word, “romantic dinner. Otherwise it just seems like dinner.”  
“Knew I was forgettin’ summat… Must have been that other bit of th’ drawing.” Mal took a deep breath, resisted the urge to light up a cigarette, and met Ben’s eyes as calmly as he could manage. “Alright, yes I’m tryin’ t’ help yer both be romantic, but there’s no need t’ get mad!”  
Ben fell silent for a moment and his soul stopped stone still. “I don’t…” He tilted his head to meet Mal’s eyes and he was alarmed to see they looked shiny with tears. Not a situation he was used to. Mal reached out a clueless hand to try comfort him but Ben stepped back out of reach. “This is not the kind of joke that is okay,” he said quietly. “I do not wish to have any romantic encounters. I do not want to be involved with anything of this kind.”  
“But-“  
“I don’t care why you did it! Just don’t!” Ben yelled. Mal had to squint his eyes against the outburst, it was too harsh and bright in the dim room, too many emotions for him to process but in the chaos he could get glimpses of what he had called up. There was hurt and the memory of hurt mingling with anger and confusion and fear and the memory of that music.   
Then Mal remembered that it had only been a year or so since Ben had left university, and that his ‘sweetheart’ dancing partner might not have been the kindest when leaving him. He’d seen more emotionally stable people than his friend take that kind of thing to heart and keep the hurt fresh for much longer. With a feeling like slipping underwater, Mal realised what a bugger-up this whole thing had been.   
Without another word, Ben stormed out in a swarm of spirits. Giving Mal a final glare he felt was vastly ill-deserved, the purple hippo of Happiness followed and Mal, with no idea how to fix this and nobody to tell him off, finally lit up that smoke he had been dying for.

Three cigarettes later and Mal still had no clue what he should be doing.   
If he continued trying to manipulate Ben and Wolfe together then he would make Ben miserable.   
If he didn’t then he left Wolfe at the mercies of Love, and probably miserable as well since he seemed so inept at romancing Ben himself.   
If he tried to get Ben to cooperate by explaining, he risked Love getting pissed and oh yeah, it seemed kinda mad at him anyway, even though he was only trying to help, that was all he ever tried to do really, okay help himself most of the time but sometimes other people, and he did not get enough credit for that yet even a hippo that was the literal embodiment of Happiness was mad at him.   
Just as the thought crossed his mind, said hippo came bounding into the room. “The O’Malley!”  
Mal stared. “Ye look… bigger…” he said. So maybe spirits’ forms weren’t always bound to be the exact same, he was used to a little variation. But he was pretty sure the hippo almost tripling in size was a new one. What was once cat sized was now the size of a Great Dane, and the enthusiasm had increased to match the size.   
“The O’Malley must come and help! Come outside! Yayyyyyy!” All this was squealed while bouncing around the room, narrowly avoiding complete annihilation of the furniture.   
“What happened?” Mal asked as he rushed to the door. He flung it open and gaped, staring up at the sky.   
“We are so big! And free! And many!” It came and nuzzled its huge head against Mal’s side. He stroked it absent-mindedly as he listened to the sounds of a city in array and saw a sky as colourful as any sunset claimed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo kinda getting there! And thanks for all your comments they've been great! :D not sure if it'll be one or two chapters to the end but won't be long now so thanks to everyone who's stuck with it :)


	6. Chapter 6

Mal ran. He ran through busy streets of confused people, dodging spirits they couldn’t see but could definitely feel. Every spirit he saw had swelled in size, their effects matching, but he saw nothing to suggest why.

“Mal!” It was Ben, rushing the other way down the street. He pulled up short, his face flushed. “I was just coming to find you. What’s going on?”

“I was gonna ask ye th’ same,” replied Mal in-between laden breaths. “All the buggerups have gone huge!”

“Can you tell where it’s emanating from?”

Mal looked up and down the street, trying to judge the mess around him against what he knew. “Up that way,” he said with more confidence than he felt.

Their eyes met and they gave a brief nod before setting off together. Whatever problems they had could be ignored until after the crisis.

 

Rounding the corner, they found their path blocked by a crowd of people laughing. More than laughing, they were in hysterics, clutching their sides and wheezing as tears rolled down their faces.

“What on earth is going on?” muttered Ben, trying to skirt the edges of the crowd. He craned his head get a better look. “Is it that man?”

Mal slowed to a halt next to Ben and looked where he was pointing. Stood on an upturned crate, looking across the hysterical crowd with a mixture of pride and bafflement, was a bearded man.

“You liked that one?” he asked the crowd. Taking encouragement from their cheers, his confidence blossomed out behind him. “Alright, here’s another... ‘If all the seas were dried up, what would Neptune say?” He paused a beat. “’I really haven't got a notion!’” the man finished, grinning broadly as the crowd dissolved into laughter again.

Ben tried to frown. “That’s a terrible pun,” he managed while looking suitably grumpy, before surprising Mal by giving a giggle. “Awful, in fact!” he continued, a smile growing across his face. “Absolutely dreadful.”

“I don’t get it…” muttered Mal, squinting suspiciously at the man.

“Well it’s because Neptune is…” before Ben could finish his explanation he started laughing too much and gave up trying to talk to focus on breathing.

“No, not th’ joke,” Mal said, rolling his eyes. “Course I get th’ stupid joke. No, I don’t get why this joker’s so popular… unless…” He took a closer look at the box the man was stood on and spotted what he was looking for, a flicker of movement between the slats. “It’s a buggerup,” he declared, and saying the words cleared his head of the fog that had been settling in. “Musta summoned, I dunno, funniness or summat.”

His words just made Ben laugh harder. “S-summon ‘funniness!’” he spluttered helplessly. “That’s a good one Mal!”

“Bugger this,” Mal cursed. If whatever had made Happiness grow had also made Humour more powerful then Ben was going to be in no state to desummon it. Not until they found the root of the problem. He dragged Ben away from the buggerup’s spell, ignoring his weakly giggling protests.

 

Once Mal figured they were outside of Humour’s reach, he dropped Ben’s arm and let him get his breath back.

For a moment Ben didn’t speak, but leant with one hand against the greengrocer’s display and tried to stop giggling. After a few attempts, he managed it. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me there.” From his pocket he pulled a little white handkerchief and wiped away any traces of tears.

“I told ye; it’s a bugger-up.”

“Yes but it wasn’t very professional of me. Neither was how I behaved earlier,” he added, half to himself.

Mal shrugged. “’s’alright.”

Staring down at his feet, Ben folded and unfolded his handkerchief, refusing to meet Mal’s eyes. “We should probably get going then…”

“Yeah…” Mal agreed, but he didn’t want to be the first to move. They both stood fidgeting for a moment, until suddenly Mal kicked over the crate of carrots at his feet.

“Go on! Get lost!” he shouted at the bugger-up that spilled into the street. “We’ll deal with ye later!”

The gangly bundle of mismatched limbs he recognised as Awkwardness gave him a reproachful look, before loping away.

“Why on earth would ye want t’ summon Awkwardness?”

“I don’t know; to ruin someone else’s date perhaps?” suggested Ben. He shook his head. “We can’t let the malforms slow us down or we’ll never get there.”

“Ye’d hafta be a right prick. s’alright, I reckon we’re close. Jus’ down that street. Looks more… explosiony.”

Ben’s aura frazzled outwards. “There? Are you sure?”

“I’ll check.”

 

Mal rushed across the road and winced as he looked down the street of houses. This was the nice part of town, where almost everything you could think of was infused with some spirit or another, just to show off how rich the inhabitants were. On a normal day that might be just enough to make things look a bit shimmery. Today, he could see the spirits twisting in their vessels and as he got closer he could hear their voices calling out to each other in excitement.

“Definitely this way! What’s the matter?”

“That’s where Wolfe’s been going,” Ben replied, his aura growing with every step closer to the street. He caught Mal’s questioning look and elaborated. “I think I mentioned that he met a man whose wife was interested in violin lessons?” It rang a faint bell. “This is where they live. He’s almost certainly there now.”

“How come he never told me this?”

“I don’t know! Ask him yourself after this mess is cleared up!”

Mal sighed. “Fine. Let’s go get ‘im. Lead th’ way.”

 

Halfway down the street there was an ear-splitting bang as a front door splintered apart. A shining bugger-up twice as tall as a man burst out of the gaping hole left behind.

“A malform!” gasped Ben, stumbling back from the spirit striding into the street. He flinched when it roared at the sky.

“Ye can see it?” They scarpered behind one of the trees lining the street. So far, they were unnoticed by the buggerup. It was too busy taking deliberate steps and flexing its paws, examining its new physical form.

“Yes,” Ben replied without taking his eyes off it.  “But it’s not in a circle so it must be almost all of that spirit! I don’t remember learning of one that looked like that though!” Ben’s words sped up as he took in the awesome sight of the bugger-up. Mal saw weird stuff every day, but even for him a ten foot humanoid lion with a billowing cape was something to stare at. “Do you recognise it?”

“Bit like confidence, but angrier. Can’t tell ye any more than that.”

“Please! Come back!” wailed a young man racing out of the house. “I need your help!”

The bugger-up turned to face him and roared. After a second, Mal realised that was its laughter. “AND WHY SHOULD I DO THAT?”

“Because I summoned you! How else can I ask-“ He cut himself short when a young lady appeared from inside. The bugger-up interrupted his soft words to her with more guffaws.

 

“Perfect. A distraction,” Mal whispered to Ben, tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s go. Which house is it?”

“Just past them, that one there,” Ben replied. He pointed to a house three doors down from the exploded front door.

“Ready t’ run fer it?” Mal didn’t wait for Ben’s confirmation. “Three, two, one, go!” He set off at a sprint behind the arguing bugger-up and the man who summoned it. The fence of the house was almost in reach when he heard a triumphant ‘AHA!’ and a terrified squawk from behind him.

“AND WHO ARE YOU?” the bugger-up demanded as it held Ben up by the collar.

“B-Ben Thackerly!” Ben squirmed until the buggerup raised him higher and he fell into stubborn stillness. Glaring up at the buggerup his expression hardened. “And who are you?”

“GYAHAHAHA!”

Mal almost called out in alarm for the shaking his friend received as the bugger-up laughed, but clamped his mouth shut. Until he could help, he needed to stay hidden.

“I AM THE GREAT BRAVADO! I CAME HERE LOOKING FOR A LITTLE FUN!”

“What sort of fun?” Ben asked. His voice was clearer now, the tremor gone and his soul was less of a scrambled mess. For a second he caught Mal’s eye and gave a small nod, before returning all attention to his captor.

“A CHALLENGE OF COURSE! IS THERE ANY GREATER JOY THAN THAT OF PROVING ONE’S WORTH THROUGH COMPETITION?” Bravado pointed at the trembling young man on the doorstep. “YET THIS WEAKLING ONLY REQUIRED MY HELP FOR A SIMPLE MATTER OF THE HEART – NOT GOOD ENOUGH! I SHOULD KILL THEM BOTH, BUT I DON’T THINK IT WOULD EVEN COUNT AS SPORT.  WORTH A TRY AT LEAST.”

“Wait!” Ben wildly kicked out and Bravado stopped in its path. “What if – what if I gave you a challenge? Would you spare their lives then?”

Mal wanted to shout out and demand to know what Ben was doing, but he could see the answer himself. Some of Bravado’s power was seeping into Ben by proximity and it was making him reckless.

“PERHAPS. AT LEAST UNTIL THE CHALLENGE WAS COMPLETE. THEN I’D PROBABLY KILL THEM AND FIND SOMETHING ELSE TO DO.”

“How about a wager? If you win our duel then you can kill them. If I win, then you have to let me de-summon you. Deal?”

“IF I WIN THEN I GET TO KILL YOU AND THEM BOTH,” Bravado declared and Ben nodded, ignoring the horrified gasps of the on-looking couple. “DEAL.”

With exaggerated care, Bravado set Ben down onto the street and they solemnly shook hand and oversized paw. “I’LL EVEN LET YOU CHOSE THE DUELLING METHOD. MIGHT GIVE YOU SOMETHING OF A CHANCE.”

“Fine, let me just consider,” said Ben. He pulled out his hair-tie, raked a hand through his hair leaving it in the most un-Ben-like roguish mess, and gave a confident smile. “I challenge you to a dance battle.”

As Bravado threw back its head and roared with laughter again, Ben frantically gestured for Mal to make a dash for the house. Mal shook his head. Not until he was sure Ben would be alright.

“VERY WELL. THAT YOUNG LADY WILL BE YOUR PARTNER.” He made a sweeping gesture and the woman crossed to Ben, giving both the wizard and buggerup a disdainful glare as she did.

For a second Ben’s aura flared with anxiety. Typical that he was more worked up over having to dance with a girl than the fact that their lives hung in the balance, Mal thought. But Ben smothered the worry with another layer of bravado and grinned.

“THIS FOOLISH MAN WILL PROVIDE MUSIC. I BELIEVE I SAW A VIOLIN INSIDE?”

Without further prompting the man dashed inside to retrieve it.

“THE JUDGE SHALL BE… YOU.”

Mal gave a start, thinking that Bravado was pointing at him, but then he saw an almost colourless sludge oozing along the pavement.

“Me?” It’s voice reminded Mal of dreary church services and dull nights in a cell.

“YES. YOU ARE BORDOM, CORRECT?”

“I guess.”

“THEN YOU WILL BE AN EXCELLENT JUDGE. WHICHEVER PAIR IS LEAST BORING IS THE WINNER. AS FOR MY PARTNER…” it paused, looking around but seeing nothing to its taste. “MYSELF!”

Bravado puffed out its chest and began to stretch out sideways, oozing until there were two slightly smaller Bravados connected only by thin gloops like melted cheese. With the same shudder both copies shook off the final bindings and stood, paws on hips, surveying each other.

"IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE I HAD THE PRESENCE TO DO THAT!" the one on the right declared. "NOW, LET US BEGIN!"

Both pairs took their partner, Ben with far more gusto than could usually be expected of him. With a clap of paws, one half of Bravado signalled for the man to begin playing. He was shaking so badly that at first it was only tortured screeching, but he found his way and a lively melody started up. A few of the other spirits hanging around began tapping out a beat or adding their own part, though Mal couldn't tell if Ben could hear.

The best moment to go would have been as Bravado took the first step of the dance, but Mal found himself unable to look away from the unprecedented sight of Ben's dancing. He was light on his feet, firmly leading the clearly terrified woman through the steps with an almost playful air, trying to coax a smile out of her with his skilful steps. If it was Bravado's influence or Ben's natural enjoyment of the dance coming through, Mal couldn't tell but it was entrancing to the point that he found it hard to move from his spot. Other people up and down the street began peering out of their front windows, trying to understand what was going on, but both Bravado and Ben greeted them with dashing smiles without ever making the slightest misstep. It was quickly becoming a spectacle. Finally trusting his friend could handle this, Mal made a dash for the house.

 

 

As soon as he entered Mal could feel that the building was endued with a spirit, most likely Protection. He could feel it passing an invisible eye over him, assessing him for danger, but most of its attention was on the duel outside. It probably believed the entire form of Bravado was a much greater threat than some skinny Irish bloke. Mal could find time to be offended by that later.

 

It was quiet inside. The music outside was barely audible, but more worrying was the lack of music inside. Wasn't Wolfe meant to be teaching a lesson? And it was remarkably calm for a house surrounded by buggerups. Like the eye of the storm.

Low voices too indistinct to identify came from down the hall. He crept along, grateful for the plush carpet muffling his steps, until he reached the open door the murmurs were coming from.

Inside the air was thick with searing bright souls, swarming around the enormous smoky form of Love lying in front of the fireplace. Mal squinted, trying to keep track of the wheeling forms in the air but there were a blur. With a jolt he realised Wolfe was sat on the nearest settee, back to him, his soul so corrupted by Love it was unrecognisable. Sat indecently close to him was a woman, her soul a matching pair. Both were so caught up in the other they hadn't noticed Mal yet and if Love was visible to them they were paying it no mind.

Love didn't spare Mal a glance either. Its eyes were only on the couple. The concentration unnerved him. So did the growing ringing in his ears, blocking out all other sound. He could see Wolfe was talking, the woman was silently laughing. Their heads drifted closer together. Two violins lay abandoned on a nearby side table.

A sudden shift in Love's movement tore away Mal's eyes. It tensed, leaning forward, still except from its twitching tail. Just like a stray about to pounce.

"Get away from him!" Mal shouted, rushing forwards to shove the pair apart. His hearing cleared and then filled again with confused yells, wailing souls and Love's furious hissing. "Are ye alright?"

"Mal, what is going on? Why are you here?"

"Mal?"

Now he recognised her. "Florrie?! Look out!" He shoved her out the way of Love's viscous swipe but took the brunt of it himself. In a second he was lying dazed against the wall.

All around him energy surged, crackling through the house as Love puffed itself up. There was a terrible creaking noise and the floorboards began to buckle, until they snapped free and bent around him, trapping him tight.

"Mal, no!" shrieked Florrie and rushed over, but the floorboards rippled and carried him away from her.

"Don't panic! Jus’ Protection getting angry wi' me. Doesn't want me near ye! Look out!" he added as Love whipped its tail around, shattering ornaments across the room.

"It's never done this before! If only Geoffrey were here, he can control it..."

"Tha' was Love, not Protection." Mal tried not to wince as the boards tightened their grip and Love spat. "It's been followin' Wolfe fer a while, since that party..."

"When we met?" Wolfe asked Florrie, neatly sidestepping another bout of destruction from Love. Automatically, he gave Florrie's hand a comforting squeeze before putting himself between her and the buggerup.

"So that's wha' it wants!" Mal cried with sudden realisation.

Distracted by his outburst, Florrie half turned and a shard of debris sliced her arm. Crimson blood immediately welled up out of the thin line. The first drop hit the floor and the whole house recoiled. Groaning under the strain of unfamiliar shapes, the boards shunted Mal out of the room, onto the rug which flicked like a wave and carried him up the stairs before bundling him up tight.

"No, stay back!" Mal warned when he heard Florrie and Wolfe hurry up the stairs and he was inched closer to the end of the landing. More worryingly, the wide open window at the end of the landing. "It thinks I want t' hurt ye. If ye come closer..."

"What do we- agh!" Wolfe's shout was cut off by more smashing. "Sorry Mal!"

Mal held back a yell as he was forced closer to the edge; the others must have been forced further up. From his precarious perch he could see parts of the city in chaos; thick smoke rising and panicked citizens running. Love was getting angrier at being denied whatever it was it wanted from seeing these two in Love. They had to act now.

"Ye need t' show it ye - ugh - love each other!"

"Excuse me?"

"Unless ye have any better ideas jus' try it! That’s what it wants!"

A moment of silence from them, though Love's hisses and yowls were still loud from downstairs.

"Soon, if ye please!"

"Er... we were," replied Wolfe sounding thoroughly embarrassed.

"Ye were doing what?"

"Kissing?"

Even at times like these Mal felt he had to roll his eyes. "Yer dim or summat are ye? What's that got t' do wi' Love?"

Then everything seemed to happen at once. A crash, a scream, a hiss, the ground lurching towards him and a sudden jerking back just before impact.

Through his mess of dangling hair, Mal saw the carpet was wrapped around his ankle, keeping him just off the ground. It lowered him gently and gave him a vaguely apologetic pat on the head before retracting back inside.

Florrie peered down into the garden and grinned when she saw him. "Thank goodness you're alright! For a second I thought we weren’t in time!"

He met them as they rushed giddily down the stairs, hand in hand. There was no sign of Love, aside from the destruction it had left behind. Presumably it had vanished once its inexplicable mission was complete and the rest of the house had resumed its normal state.

"Ye need t' be careful," he warned with a sharp glance at their interlinked hands. It was all he could think to say.

Florrie waved away his concerns. "You don't need to worry Mal, my husband is well aware of my activities. He doesn't mind." She laughed when she saw his expression. "After all, I don't mind his endless 'hunting' trips away with Mr Thompson. It all works rather well I think."

 

No sooner than they had opened the front door they were greeted by Ben. Scruffy haired, beaming and most importantly, alive. "I won!" he announced before anyone could get a word in. "You wouldn't believe the crowd! Everyone was watching and cheering and..." As he processed what he was saying, his eyes widened and he paled. "I can't believe I just did that..." he muttered.”Whatever will people think?"

"Yer alrigh' then," Mal replied, keeping his voice neutral.

"You survived as well." They met eyes and both cracked into a smile. "Oh, and I have this!"

Ben extended his hands and a little fluffy ball uncurled. A tiny Bravado coloured lion cub, complete with cape, stretched and mewled in his palm. "It shrunk into this just as I won. It shan't take long to de-summon. Speaking of, we had better get going. The whole city is still overrun."

 

Like all of Mal's favourite happy endings, this episode in their lives ended without everything going completely to hell forever and so passed his success criteria with, if not flying colours, then at least flying something else. All the important components of his life (Wolfe, cigarettes and Ben) remained relatively untouched, the main differences being that Ben tended to cook more often and Florrie was fast becoming part of their lives. It was a week before all the buggerups were finally cleared up. Love's power to amplify emotions had played havoc with every summoning for miles around, though Mal thought it wise not to mention to anyone exactly what had happened. Somehow, Captain Barber would make it his fault. Parts of the city needed work after the buggerup rampage of course, but other than these few points not much more came of the Love Buggerup Thing, as Mal called it.

 

Except for one little incident that is, so minor Mal was half convinced he'd imagined it. He'd been talking with a woman who’d been kind enough to give him a smoke after they’d caught the buggerups tearing up her home, when he thought he saw a familiar shape skulking in the shadows, so briefly it was probably nothing. Still, he made an excuse and hurried home anyway. No way was he giving that buggerup a chance, no matter how much Wolfe enthused on the subject.

At least, not yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this a while back as it was a Christmas present for my boyfriend :3 wasn't sure if I was going to post the ending or not but he encouraged me to so here you are!   
> If you enjoyed this please leave comments or kudos - much appreciated! Or follow me on tumblr at stoprighttheremywaywardson  
> Even more appreciated would be if you followed hawkracing on tumblr, instagram or facebook! Not sure if I'm allowed to plug them here but it's my friends' and boyf's F1 in schools team and all support is welcomed :D
> 
> Thanks for reading! Won't have time for much fic writing for a while but can reveal there is definitely the idea for another widdershins fic waiting for its time...

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic! I'd really appreciate any comments you might have :)
> 
> If you did enjoy it, I also have works in the Haikyuu, Ace Attorney, My Hero Academia and Supernatural fandoms you may like. 
> 
> You can find writing tips and read about my published romance novella "A Grey Valentine's" on my blog: https://conwaywrites.wordpress.com


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